


Without Words

by thewomaninthefog



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, College AU, Deaf AU, F/M, Nothing I write is happy okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 15:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10994220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewomaninthefog/pseuds/thewomaninthefog
Summary: Annie's life is a simple one, a novel without a first chapter, the opening minutes of a silent film. Then fate (in the form of her new roommate Sasha) introduces her to Armin, a budding writer looking for a story to tell. Together they find a story in the adventures of the English class of room 104, bonding over one of the many things they have in common: they're both deaf.(Reposted from fanfiction.net)





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I wrote waaay back in 2014, and I decided to edit it a bit and post it here. I hope people will still enjoy it.

Annie’s life was a dull one.

The first nineteen years of her life had been spent held close to her father’s chest, a losing set in a game of cards. Only after eight grades in a special school for the deaf was she allowed to go to a public school, where she was not coddled but brushed aside and labeled as incapable and weak. As she stood on campus of the Sina Community College, Annie feared she would once again be labeled by the term “deaf” and not as a person.

Then a human projectile ran into her.

The projectile’s hair was pulled back in a messy brown ponytail, strands of hair escaping easily. She scooped up the three books she had just dropped and stacked them up, her lips forming a mantra of _I’m sorry_ as The History of Prehistoric Man, Calculus I, and Intro to English made a small tower on the concrete. She hoisted them up, still apologizing.

“I-It’s fine,” Annie said, trying her best to sound out the words right.

The girl’s mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of realization. She fumbled with her books for a moment before plopping them back on the ground and signed in ASL: “Hi! My cousin is deaf. Need any help finding your classes?”

Annie shook her head no. The girl continued to sign.

“My name’s S-A-S-H-A. Where are you…?” Her middle and index fingers made like legs and scurried through the air to say _walking._

“I’m going to English.” Annie emphasized  _going to_ by spelling it out and then showing the girl the sign. “My name’s Annie.”

She held out a hand for the girl to shake.

Sasha’s eyes lit up. “Me too!” She grabbed Annie’s hand and drug her down the path.

Annie’s new acquaintance lead her to a large brick building on the western side of the campus. Sasha burst through the double doors, blurring the sign that read _English_ _Building_. Sasha slowed to a trot, taking great care to check every door for their room number. At the end of the hall was room 104, a surprisingly large lecture when compared to the door that was crammed into the corner of the hallway.

The class consisted of fifty-six students, two of which Annie recognized. She steered clear of them and followed Sasha to the front row of seats. A short boy with a closely shaved head greeted Sasha with an infatuated grin.

Their teacher, _Dr. K. Shardis_ according to the blackboard, took his spot at the podium and began his hour and a half long interrogation. He went to every student (aside from herself and one or two others) and questioned them about all kinds of things that didn't seem to have anything to do with writing. Sasha ended up transcribing the majority in her notebook, claiming that the interpreter standing near the other side of the room wasn’t doing him justice. She added in stick figure illustrations when the situation called for it. Including one of her bashing 'commander talks a lot' over the head with 'the majestic potato of old'. When the class ended, the door heaved open, desperate freshmen spewing from the torture chamber that was home to their first English lesson.

After that Annie and Sasha parted ways, leaving the rest of the day rather dull in comparison. Annie kept up decently in all her classes, but it was hard to focus. If there was one thing duller than a bad teacher it was watching an interpreter sign for a bad teacher. It just wasn’t the same as a teacher who signed. Annie had looked into other colleges for the Deaf, but they were all far away. No matter how much Annie claimed to resent her father for keeping her so sheltered and forcing her into speech therapy, she didn’t want to live a thousand miles away from her only family. Sina Community College had a reputation online as being accessible, and it was only a two-hour drive from home. Close enough to run back to if necessary, but far enough that she only had to see her father during breaks.

After ditching her two o’clock when the interpreter hadn’t shown, Annie walked into her dorm to find Sasha and a blonde playing cards.

“I didn’t realize you were my roommate!” Sasha waved her over, dealing another deck. “My dad moved me in while we were in class. Have you met Krista? She’s our suit mate.” Sasha’s combination of signs and fingerspelling was a bit difficult to keep up with, but Annie understood enough of it combined with lip reading.

Krista waved to her with a big smile and Annie waved back hesitantly as she sat on the edge of the couch, looking over the game the girls had started on the floor.

The dorm room was cozy, with two small rooms that slept two and a living space, complete with a luxury mini fridge that supported rusted hinges and a few rainbow magnets. A microwave from the 90s sat on top of it precariously. Krista’s roommate was often sparse, preferring to hold up in her room than hang out in the small living area. She only appeared to microwave hot pockets and watch some reality TV show on Thursdays.

The other three girls got to know each other decently throughout the first few weeks of class, often commiserating about assigned readings and the twenty-eight steps they had to climb to get to the dorm. Annie taught Sasha more signs and helped begin refining her ASL grammar. Krista started signing short sentences after a few days and apparently had taught Ymir a few signs herself, which Annie learned during one of her Thursdays spent in the living room.

Annie learned that Sasha was born and raised on a farm south of Rose city and was passionate about hunting and food. She was remarkably fit for the way she ate, but not even the twenty-eight step climb to the dorm could save her from the freshman fifteen. She bought a new pair of pants and shrugged, confident in her ability to lose the weight “eventually.”

Krista had a myriad of family issues. When her mother died from cancer, her wealthy, neglectful father sent her off to a girls only boarding school. She was flexible, a vegetarian, and very vocal about how gay she was. “Like, super gay,” she said once while Ymir choked on her ramen. “If the LGBTQ community had a hierarchy, I would be the queen of the lesbians.”

Ymir never recovered.

Three weeks into the semester, Sasha brought up an inevitable question of sororities while digging into a pile of pasta in the caf.

Krista jumped in quickly to mention that the frat houses at SCC were open to all genders and were more like glorified party clubs than anything else. There were three notable ones. The first was the Garrison, named after their founder, Greg Garrison. The Scouts, who were known for their puns and were often the butt of cub scout jokes, was the second. The third and most prestigious was the Police.

“ _Police?_ That’s it?” Annie signed.

“They won’t use _the._ Probably because of copyright. They’re kind of into themselves. Honestly, if they’re going to have a unicorn as their mascot they should _at least_ make it gayer.” Krista wrote in the notebook they were passing around, as Krista had insisted her vocabulary of signs wasn’t good enough to discuss the complexity of the subject. “They only accept kids into the top twenty of their year. Or rich kids. They’re having an annual welcome party this Friday, want to go? There will be free food,” she added as Sasha glanced over.  

Annie sat back in the booth they were sitting at and contemplated the offer. She took the notebook from Krista and wrote decisively: “Yeah, sure.”

 

* * *

 

 

Annie regretted that decision the moment they walked into the small house.

It was just off campus and packed with people. She didn’t necessarily hate people, but she was definitely an introvert. She tolerated Sasha’s bubbliness, and even found some comfort in the girl’s company.  But this was too much. Hot, sweaty bodies pushed at her from every side, elbowing her in the stomach and stepping on her toes.

Sasha, being the supportive friend that she was, took Annie by the arm and lead her to the first secluded corner she could find. She knew Annie didn’t like talking and she doubted anyone there knew ASL. Krista, after subjecting the party in the first place, had ditched them for a “girl’s night out” with Ymir. Sasha occasionally left their corner for food recon, but mostly hung out with Annie.

After the bubbly spokesperson - Sasha called her Hitch - delivered her customary speech _(The same one as the year before and the year before that, and the year before **that** )_ the crowd thinned. Some left completely while others trickled deeper into the house. By that time, Sasha and Annie had been there for an hour and a half, and Annie was running on fumes.

“Bored yet?” Sasha signed before shooting herself with a two-barrel finger gun.

“Boredom hardly describes it.”

Then someone was tapping her on the shoulder and Annie turned around, recognizing the blond boy from their English class. He signed back, “Yeah, I bet the music sucks.”


	2. Chapter Two

After thirty minutes of conversation, Sasha had insisted that they go on a date. Annie quickly brushed the idea aside, even though she secretly regretted it the moment her hands fell to her waist. She was relieved when the boy, Armin, had instead suggested that they get a couple of their friends together one Saturday and get to know each other better.

Sasha squealed in approval.

The next Saturday six of them were seated in a long booth. Sasha had invited Connie and Armin had invited Eren and Mikasa, who were adopted brother and sister. Eren dominated the conversation with his passionate commentary on sports, constantly lauding SCC’s quarterback and insisting that the Sina Cows would finally win a game against the south Maria Titans and break their twenty-year winning streak.

Eren and Mikasa had apparently been friends with Armin for a very long time, and both signed well. There were times that Armin looked on at Eren in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he signed, making eye contact with Annie. “He’s very interested in sports.”

“No, It’s OK. He’s nice.”

Armin didn’t seem like he intended to say anything else, but as Annie reverted her attention to Eren he asked: “What are you majoring in?”

Annie thought for a moment, wanting to say more than just _I don’t know._

“Undecided. But I was thinking about history or math. I’ve just floated through life, there isn’t a whole bunch I’m interested in.” Annie wanted to punch herself for telling him something that would likely make him uncomfortable.

“I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“What about you?” Annie signed, desperate to get the conversation back into both of their comfort zones.

“I’m an English major. I’ve always loved to write.”

Annie smiled. “What do you write?”

Their conversation drifted to other things, and Annie grew more comfortable with him. She even laughed, which granted her a sideways glance from Sasha. After a while, Armin started teaching her Morse code. A waiter walking by gave them a strange look when he saw all the dots and dashes written on the napkins and an even stranger look when they asked for more. They laughed once he had gone, and for the first time in a very long time, Annie felt normal.

After dessert, they decided as a group to go see a movie. Eren said that the movie theater usually had subtitles as an option, so Annie agreed. She wasn’t a huge fan of movies. They were too long to hold her attention and she usually ended up falling asleep, which was embarrassing. The quirk proved fatal when she fell asleep on Armin’s shoulder.

When the movie ended and the lights came up, Annie felt a hand on her shoulder, nudging her awake. Through her bleary vision, she made out Sasha’s exasperated face. She was shaking her - and to Annie’s surprise, Armin - awake.

“I can’t believe you two!” Sasha signed when they were both awake. “That movie was brilliant. You two should be ashamed!”

Annie _was_ ashamed, but not because she fell asleep during the movie. She had fallen asleep on a boy she had known for just over a week, and he had fallen asleep on her.

They walked back to campus through downtown, old street lights glaring on the windows but leaving the sidewalks in twilight. Armin and Annie walked side by side as the others went ahead of them, spread out in a line across the empty street. This small detail brought to Annie’s attention that Armin, like her father said gentlemen always should, was walking closest to the road. _And close to me_ , Annie thought.

“Sorry about that,” Annie signed. “I have a habit of sleeping through movies.”

“It’s fine, I fell asleep too. Movies are boring without sound, I like books better.”

They left downtown and the street lights became fewer and far between. A comfortable silence fell between them. When they reached the dorms, Armin pulled her aside, thanked her, and asked if she’d like to have lunch on Thursday.

Annie lied.

“Sorry, I’ve got plans, would Tuesday be okay?”

As soon as the door clicked shut it was like the two girl’s personalities had switched. Sasha’s chest heaved with a tired sigh as she plopped on the couch. She pulled the notebook off the coffee table and began scrawling furiously. Annie sat cross-legged on the beanbag chair in the corner, waiting patiently.

With great accuracy, Sasha threw the notebook at Annie’s feet without even looking. Annie flipped to the page she had started and read the rant:

_That was EXAUHSTING. Mikasa is nice, I have a few classes with her, but EREN MAKES ME WANT falls asleep sleeping beauty style but the only thing that can wake me up is him never being able to speak EVER AGAIN. Even Connie could not save me from the dullness that is sports. Ugh. At least you and Armin seemed to have a good time. (Still can’t believe you slept through the movie. We’re renting it when it comes out on DVD and you’re watching!) When are you two gonna go out again?_

Annie was taken aback by her directness. It wasn’t like Sasha was wrong that they wanted to spend more time together, but sometimes her straightforwardness surprised Annie. Annie answered honestly anyway: _On Tuesday, sorry Eren was bleh._

When Sasha read that, she turned to Annie, who she had to beg to get her to go that night, and made a face.

 

* * *

 

 

For the next three days, Annie alternated between being anxious for Tuesday, being excited, and scolding herself for being such a textbook schoolgirl. Tuesday came, and as the students filed out of room 104, Armin came up to her wringing his hands.

“You ready?”

The cool fall air moved in swift streaks, and red, gold, and purple leaves chased each other across the campus. They walked close, hands brushing, through the now bustling city streets. When they came to a little outdoor cafe, Armin got them a table, handling the waitress with a grace Annie had never possessed herself.

 They sat down at the table nearest to the road. Small talk followed and Armin offered to order for her, always the gentleman. Annie wondered briefly if someone had given him a guidebook on how to treat women.

“Were you always deaf?” Annie asked after the waiter left.

For the most part, they had avoided talking about themselves or their lack of hearing and the question seemed to take him off guard.

“What makes you ask?”

“The way you talked about movies like you used to be able to hear them. I’m sorry I was just curious, you don’t have to-”

“No, it’s fine. I lost my hearing when I was nine.” He looked down at his water, almost guilty. “You remember that pile up ten years ago that was all over the news?”

Annie did remember. Two eighteen wheelers, one carrying gas, the other large pipes, along with 94 cars and 137 deaths. Annie had felt the windows in her house rattle from the explosion a mile away.

“My parents and I were coming in to visit my grandfather. I think they said I was the closest to the explosion that survived. It blew my eardrums though. I still hear ringing in my left ear sometimes, but that’s it.”

Annie recalled him mentioning that he lived with his grandfather. “So that’s why you lived with your grandfather before college? I’m sure that must have been very difficult for the both of you.”

“Yeah, he’s given up a lot to take care of me. It was hard to move to the dorms, but we both agreed it would be a good change. I miss seeing him though.”

“I’d like to meet him sometime.”

“I’m sure he would love that. What about you, what’s your life story?” He asked casually, but Annie could sense the curiosity.

Annie supposed she owed it to him. Even Sasha only knew bits of the story, it was a hard one to tell. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.

“Well, I was born deaf, and after about seventeen months my mom decided I was too much to deal with, so she left. My dad scraped up enough money to send me to a school for the deaf.  I stayed there until 10th grade. Public school was okay, I had one friend who helped me so I managed.”

 

* * *

 

 

An empty quiet hung over them for a while after Annie had told him the story. There was no meaning to it, just Armin at a loss for words.  His story was one he’d always found cliché or melodramatic. One night he had spent hours sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling single sentences in a college rule notebook before tearing out an entire page. Around one in the morning, his grandfather’s hand had fallen lightly on his shoulder.

“What a waste of paper,” his grandfather had said as Armin turned around.

That night, he had listened, making coffee, as Armin ranted in his broken voice about how ‘there were no stories left to tell’.

His grandfather had offered up a nugget of wisdom. “Why not write about yourself? People are always making new stories. Draw from your own.”

At the time, the idea had disgusted him. His senior essay found a way to finish itself, but Armin felt like waxwork making it. He still didn’t like the idea of writing about himself, still found it lazy. But there was something about Annie, the way she had defined her life in so few words. There was bitterness there, the simplicity of it all so damning. Her life was like a thousand-page novel with only the first sentence written after nineteen years of work. She deserved an epic, and a small part of him wanted to help her write it.

A tap on his hand drew his gaze back into focus.  

“What do you miss most?” she signed. Armin stared at her for a moment, taken aback, not quite understanding. She clarified. “What do you miss hearing the most?”

Armin had never really thought about it. He hadn’t even started learning sign language until his sophomore year of high school. Writing took over his life after the accident. It was his way of communicating with the world, anything before it was a blur.

“Music,” he signed as it came to him. “I miss music the most.” A wistful look softened her features, and his heart dropped to his stomach. She deserved a much better deck than what was handed to her. Music must be such an abstract concept.  

They were beginning to fall back into that empty silence, shutting each other out, when Armin’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

Annie laughed a little at the way he jumped, and he wished he could hear it. As she threw her head back he noticed that it was the first time he’d seen her with her hair down.

Shaking himself out of the though, Armin actually looked at the text. It was from his cousin, Nifa, a nurse at the hospital.

_Armin? Are you there?_

_Yeah, what’s up?_ he replied.

_Oh, thank God! I didn’t want to leave this for you to find later._

_What do you mean?_

His eyebrows knitted together and he scrunched up his nose. Was something wrong?

_It’s your grandfather. He collapsed in front of his house, and his neighbors called 911._

_Is he at the hospital? I’ll be right there._

_Armin, he passed away._

Bile rose in his throat.

_I’m sorry._

The phone clattered to the table unheard as his hands rose to cover his face. He leaned over like he had been dealt a harsh blow to the stomach. He forced down a cry, shaking, curled up like a lost child. He felt Annie’s presence beside him, her hand brushing his hair, trying to get his attention.

She reached around him for the phone and scrolled through the messages. Her stomach flopped as she read the final message. Three more popped up before Annie could lay it back down.

_Armin? Are you alright?_

_You need to come down to the hospital. Shitty formalities._

_I can help you, you just need to talk to me. Please._

Armin slowly lifted his face, forcing his hands into shapes. “Sorry, I have to go. Do you mind paying? I’ll pay you back.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Annie please don’t, you don’t want to-”

She lurched forward, grabbing his wrist, her eyes daring him to argue again. Armin let out a shaky sigh, dropping his shoulders in defeat.

 

* * *

 

When she saw Armin walk through the doors of the hospital, Nifa met him halfway. As soon as her arms wrapped around him his knees gave out and she was supporting him more than hugging him. He sobbed into her shoulder, his cries mindfully soft. Even now he was still holding back. A girl stood behind him a foot or two, watching.

Nifa led him over to one of the couches, sitting him down and lifting his face, trying to get his attention. “I’ll be right back, okay? Some stupid hospital formalities and I’ll get you out of here. Promise,” she signed with some difficulty. He watched her leave before kneeling back over.

When she returned, the girl was sitting beside him, stroking his back. Armin rocked back and forth, mumbling under his breath. “I’m so useless. I should have stayed with him. He would have been okay. I shouldn’t have left him. I could have done something.”

The girl just looked down at him softly, seemingly oblivious to his mumblings. Before Nifa had crossed half the room, he stood, suddenly powered by some sort of purpose. But he didn’t run to the doors, but to the staircase that lead to the upper floors. The girl followed closely behind. Nifa almost followed as well, then thought better.

Armin sat on the roof wailing. There was no one to hide from up there, no one to hear. Whatever reckless urge that had propelled him to the staircase left him half way up.  With no adrenalin to dampen it and having come to terms with the fact there was nothing he could have done, Armin was left only with misery. He tried to push away all the thoughts running through his head, all the little moments that had been nothing, the words left unsaid, and a parade of other regrets. Soon, Armin surrendered to them, letting them gnaw at his soul. And that’s when the wails had come.

He sat curled up, knees drawn to his forehead. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and let his knees drop. It faintly occurred to him that Annie must have been watching, but then she leaned forward, lips lightly pressing against his. It was snotty and quick, but it served its purpose, clearing his mind and leaving only that raw pain. She wrapped her arms around him, head pressed against his chest, offering comfort with only her presence.


	3. Chapter Three

It was during the following weeks that Armin began to realize how important Annie was to him. If she hadn’t been there, following him through the cold places death brought the living - the morgue, the funeral home, beside the freshly dug grave on the evening of October 12th - Armin wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t have ended up in the ground himself. He had been spared his parents funerals but knew what unpleasant and uncomfortable affairs they could be. He would never have asked for her to stay with him through it all, but Annie still had stood by his side.  

Armin stood at the foot of his grandfather's grave, head bowed, hands fisted at his sides. The smell of rotting leaves tainted the air; the wind moaned like the last breath of a corpse. The grave was halfway up the largest hill in the cemetery, a patch of earth, fresh and new, contrasted against the once vibrant grass. Gray wisps shifted in the pinkening sky, the place where he stood shrouded in twilight. The other side of the hill, where the sun had fallen, was bathed in a golden light Armin couldn’t see. Birds flew behind clouds like children playing hide and seek, there one moment, gone the next.

The past few days had passed like a dream, everything since the roof veiled in a grayish haze. The numb peace that had come with the illusion of dreams was beginning to wear off. Armin felt it in every fiber of his being; felt it in his shaking hands, felt it in his eyes that were beginning to burn. He’d never felt so lonely, so _useless,_ in his life. He didn’t even have anything to properly remember him by. When was the last time they had seen each other? What was the last shred of advice from the mental book of golden words Armin had torn to shreds? His brain felt empty, suddenly void of his image. _This is how I’m going to remember him,_ he thought bitterly. _A gray stone and an inscription in gold. Not the man filled with warmth and wisdom but a shell, in a box, under some dirt._ And then a hand wrapped around his, soft and strong and undoubtedly Annie’s. _And I thought I was alone._

Nearly a month later, Annie noticed the glassy look in his eyes. She stretched up on tiptoe, kissing his ear. Armin blinked and looked down, feeling Annie’s arms wrap around his waist and her head laying on his chest.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” Annie signed as they broke apart. “I can go visit my dad some other time if-”

Armin waved his hand as if swatting a fly. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Not quite convinced, Annie took her hands in his, then kissed him properly. “I’ll see you soon. Goodbye Armin.”

As Armin watched her go, a part of him wished he had told her he wouldn’t be okay, that he needed her and leaving him was wrong. It wouldn’t have been a lie.

Thanksgiving break left the dorms mostly vacant and ice cold. Most Armin’s friends had gone home to family. Sasha had returned to the ranch, Connie and Jean had retreated deeper into the city. Even Bertolt and Reiner, the quiet acquaintances in the back of English, had a foster mother to go home to. And Annie had gone home to her father. The remaining stragglers were being frozen out. Apparently the 15 some kids in the building weren’t enough to keep on the heat on for.

“It’s so f-ing cold,” Eren muttered to his sister. Their father was in the military and stationed on a ship somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic.

 “I wish I was with Krista,” Ymir muttered, wrapped in a burrito of blankets. “She’s in the Bahamas. She better take me with her for winter break.”

The four of them were huddled up in the dorm Armin usually shared with Eren and Jean. They sat around a hot plate that was turned up to HIGH.

“Eren, that really is a fire hazard, we should cut it off,” Mikasa warned.

“It’s what hot plates are for!”

“It’s also why they’re banned from dorm rooms!”

Armin cleared his throat, obviously sensing the unrest and knowing something must be done. He spoke in his quiet, hardly used voice. First slowly, trying to remember how to form the words, then picking up in pace. “My grandfather’s old house has a fireplace and electric heat. There are a few guest rooms, and I’d hate for it to be empty on a holiday. We could go there.”

There was a moment of silence, then Mikasa pounced, showering Armin in sisterly kisses. Armin froze, shocked senseless by her uncharacteristic playfulness. She then turned, looking Eren dead in the eye, and said “Thank God for Armin. If I’d had to listen to Eren whine one more time, I swear-”

“Cut it out, Mikasa, gosh!” He glanced past her at Armin and signed: _The holidays make her this way. It’s creepy._

Mikasa punched him.

 

* * *

 

 

Later that afternoon they were gathered once again, this time in Armin’s grandfather’s house. It had been as cold or colder when they arrived, but the heat did its work quickly. Once they had opened the fireplace damper, deactivated the fire alarms, and let the smoke that had billowed into the room thin out, they congregated around the fire.

Eren had been rooting around in the kitchen when a surprisingly girlish shriek made Ymir and Mikasa jump.  

“Eren?” Mikasa called.

Eren ran into the room, looking properly terrified. “It’s _green_!”

“Calm down, Eren.”

“A _green_ Oreo. A green f-ing OREO.”

“Eren-”

“GREEN.”

They ordered pizza.

For the rest of the week, the four of them finished the job Armin and Annie had started. By Thanksgiving Day, all the personal belongings in the house had been packed up or thrown away. (Including the Oreos.) All that was left was his grandfather’s room.

Armin supposed he’d been avoiding it, but while the girls attempted to cook a turkey and Eren offered emotional support from the sidelines, Armin took a deep breath. He cleaned the closet first, folding the clothes into boxes to give away, only setting aside a hat or two, a silk tie, and Christmas sweater he thought might make Annie smile. Behind a worn bathrobe was a safe, and after trying a few combinations, Armin decided a professional would have to come crack it open.

He saved the night stand drawer for last, pulling it free from the stand completely and plopping on the bed. There were the things one normally kept in a nightstand: pills, earplugs, and cold medicine. Further back in the drawer was a picture with two rings - a wedding and engagement - taped to the back.  He looked at the woman he knew to be his grandmother but had never met, and found himself recognizing her then-young face. The picture stirred up a memory of his own mother, blurry but still with long blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Below the picture was an envelope, the flap not taped or sealed, but folded in. Inside it was lined paper, written on in pencil, worn through in places from being erased repeatedly. He glanced at the heading:

 

_Armin Arlert_

_3rd Grade_

_4th Place_

 

For a moment, Armin was confused. He didn’t remember writing much in 3rd grade, much less entering a contest. He read through the first few lines, and it began coming back to him. It had probably been the first time he’d ever asked his grandfather what to write. The contest had been deemed required by his teacher, and instead of telling him a nugget of wisdom, he had told Armin a story. He now realized that the story of the girl in the tower had been true. The evil king was the girl's father, the dragon a dog, the noble steed a pickup truck, and the shining knight his grandfather.

Eren calling him down for dinner broke him from the haze. He wiped the silent tears that had been streaming from his cheeks to the paper and put it back in the envelope. For the first time since his death, Armin no longer felt the weight of his grandfather’s loss. He felt determined, itching to write again.

 _People are always making new stories,_ his grandfather had said.

When Annie returned the next Sunday, he told her about his plan. By Christmas, they had learned every name of every student in English 104 and begun writing down their stories, one at a time. On Christmas day, Armin gave her a newly revised version of the story he had written in 3rd grade. On New Year’s, they sat on the roof of the dorm, knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder. Annie stared up at the fireworks, eyes sparkling. Armin wondered if she could feel them burst in her chest the way he could. He wrapped an arm around her and looked up at the sky, making a silent, childish wish.


	4. Chapter Four

Armin and Annie were sprawled across the couch, bodies pressed into the cushions, limbs tangled together. A heavy quilt rested on top of them, warding off the February air. Armin buried his face in her neck, letting his breath warm the exposed skin. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths. The faint blue glow of the TV lit up the room. Annie had fallen asleep to some made for TV movie that relied of explosions to keep its viewers awake. Subtitles didn’t quite have the same effect, with only a small _[Explosion]_ caption to go with crappy effects. Armin had paid a bit more attention than Annie had - filling in the blanks with sounds half-remembered from his childhood - but not much more. The thought that there were so many things Annie would never hear made his guts clench and his heart drop a bit. Although another part of him was happy she didn’t know the sound of a real explosion.He held her tighter, guilt creeping up in his throat. He still hadn’t told her.

He held her tighter, guilt creeping up in his throat. He still hadn’t told her.

Annie responded to the change in pressure, stirring. Armin let his hand drift under her shirt, resting it against her stomach. He brushed his lips across her neck, a need for closeness forming in his stomach that he’d never acted on before. The hand on Annie’s stomach moved to her back, unclasping her bra as he leaned in to kiss her awake. When he pulled away, Annie met his eyes questioningly.

But Annie knew what he wanted. She could feel it radiating from his entire being, see it in his eyes, feel it in the softness of his lips against hers. And Annie wanted it too. They had been together for months now, the dorm was empty, and she trusted him - more than she’d like to admit. His lips brushed across her chest and she shivered.

Armin pulled away and signed in the faint light of the TV screen, hands leaving shadowy shapes thrown across the wall. “Is this okay? Do you want to... Copulate?”

The formal sign pulled a giggle from her lips. She pulled him into a kiss that said _yes_ in a way no sign or spoken word could convey. With surprising strength, he carried her into the bedroom. Usually, it was filled with Eren's snores, but he and Jean were out drinking and the room was empty.

Annie’s back pressed into the comforter, Armin laying flush against her. Annie ran her hands up his sides, pulling off his shirt and leaving marks of fire across his already heated skin. They removed layers between long kisses, Armin’s eyes always questioning, always offering a chance to stop. But Annie always shook her head, and the last bit of clothing fell to the floor.

Even though he couldn’t speak a word to her, Armin’s lips told stories. The soft puff of air as her warmth closed around him, his quivering breaths pulling at her own. His mouth falling open in unheard moans, his lips forming her name. The desperate kiss that muffled her own voice, and the tickle of his lips exploring every part of her body. A final, chaste kiss on her cheek before he dropped to her side, holding her close as her heaving chest slowed and they drifted into an oblivion.

Sometime during all this, Eren and Jean had returned from their failed night of picking up chicks. They first found the abandoned TV that was playing an hour long commercial. Then it was the blanket, Annie’s shirt, her bra, and then the slightly cracked door that lead to the bedroom. A curious Eren peeked through the crack, then quickly turned away, blushing.

Sounds like someone is going to be sleeping on the couch,” Jean teased.

“Jean, there is an extra bed in your room!”

 

* * *

 

Armin had woken to Annie's face twice before. Once on their first date, and the second after his grandfather's funeral. She had been helping him clean the house out, and for the first time since the hospital, Armin cried. Gross sobs wracked his frame as he rambled on in revulsion, claiming his grandfather's death was his own fault. He knew it was foolish, but the pain hadn’t dulled enough then to be sensible. Annie had lulled him into a stupor with her fingers, easing him onto her lap. He'd lost consciousness and woken three hours later to her looking down on him.

Neither time compared to how gorgeous Annie looked now. Her features were at rest, framed by tangled locks of white gold. A bruise was forming on her porcelain skin, just above her left shoulder. Embarrassment bubbled up in his throat. He'd left a mark on her. Armin leaned forward, kissing the discolored skin. She shifted, pushing her body against his. The guilt, momentarily lost in their night together, reared its monstrous head yet again.

He kissed her ear, rousing her from her peaceful sleep. Her glistening eyes opened, and Armin felt his throat tighten. He slipped out of the bed, less aware of his nakedness then than he had been when she was flush against him. Even so, he picked his boxers from the floor half thinking.

Shrouded only in his underwear, Armin shuffled through his desk, looking for pen and paper. Armin was best with written word, and as he began to write, he thought his hands were shaking too much to have tried to sign it.

_My grandfather always supported me in the years after the accident. He took ASL classes with me, helped me with school, and raised me. But for all he did, I could tell he still felt guilty, like he hadn’t done absolutely everything he could for me._ _Several weeks ago, we retrieved his will from a safe in his bedroom. According to the will, there is a bank account in my name with a considerable sum of money in it. He requested I use it to get a cochlear implant so he could - and I quote – give back one of the two things he took from me. It’s ludicrous to say that he took anything away from me, but I’d like to respect his final wishes just the same. Either way, there is a crap ton of money sitting around - enough to make a payment on a house, or a car, or go to France - and I’m not sure what to do with it. This is a big decision and I don’t know what to do._

Armin paused for a moment, the pen held above the paper. Lost in his words, Armin hadn’t noticed Annie creeping up behind him. One hand held the sheets wrapped around her, the other reached over and plucked the pen out of Armin’s grasp.

_f regaining your hearing would make you happy, I won’t judge you. I can tell you miss it. However, it doesn’t work for everyone. I’m happy the way I am, don’t get me wrong, but when they told me that cochlear implants wouldn’t work for me, I was upset. You’re lucky to be able to make a decision. France sounds nice, though._

She held the pen out to him so he could reply, but he took it and laid it on the table before wrapping his hand around hers.

He didn’t really know _what_ he wanted to do. Part of him wanted to see the world, or keep his grandfather’s house, or go to a better college. Another part longed to hear his own voice again and the music his old high school friends used to make. He wanted to hear Annie’s heartbeat, her breath, her voice. But was that even possible? Armin didn’t know, and neither did Annie.  He wondered if her own mind was whirling like his was.

 “You sure you’re okay with it?” Armin signed, turning to face her. “I didn’t know you ever considered it yourself.”

“Yeah. It’s fine, really, being able to function like the human being my mother was so convinced I wasn’t feels like a nice big fuck you.”

“Then we’ll look into it? See if it’s possible?”

“Yeah. And if not we’re going to Europe.”

Armin closed the space between them, holding her close and resting his head on hers. Her entire body shook, and he felt her smile pressing against his chest. Behind them, Armin saw the door crack open. Jean peered through, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

“What’s up with the crazy laughter? What’d you do? Forget to use protection?”  Jean managed to convey the broken sentences with a mix of sign language, mouthing, and random gestures. He smiled cockily.

Armin was sure he was blushing but shook his head. _More responsible than that_ , he mouthed back. Behind Annie’s back, Armin gave him the universal sign for _fuck off._

As Jean left, Annie looked up at him, a big smile on her face. His stomach clenched, but not out of sadness or guilt or lust, but an emotion Armin had only ever associated with Annie. _I love you, Annie_ , he thought as they kissed in that messy room as the pale winter light drifted in, warmed by the tint of the blinds.  


	5. Chapter Five

May whirled in on a tornado of cherry blossoms and finals papers. Classes were like funerals; there was a dull, droning preacher, the rustling of programs, the relatives weeping in the corner. The dorm rooms - if possible - were even less lively. Students drifted through the hall like ghosts, some mumbling chemistry formulas or Latin vocabulary words under their breath. During the months leading up to ‘The Week of Never Ending Hell’ as Eren dramatically called it, Armin had wisely decided to hold off doing anything with the money until finals were over.

In Annie’s dorm, few words were exchanged aside from the curt, clipped words between Sasha and Krista when food was involved.  Both girls elected to spend their study time in their respective rooms. They were friends and got along well, but the tension of finals tended to drive people apart. This, however, was not the case with Annie and Armin.

Annie was sprawled across the couch, nose buried in a Biology book. Armin sat at their poor excuse for a kitchen table, hunched over a large five subject notebook that appeared to be approaching its final days of life. There couldn’t be more than ten pages without a mark on them, and Annie knew exactly what was on the other 170 some pages. Annie slipped off the hairband on her wrist, using it as a bookmark, and set the book on the coffee table. She tiptoed around the couch to Armin’s side. Grinning, she blew in his ear. Armin jumped considerably.

“What was that for?” Armin signed, shivering. “You startled me.”

“I noticed that.” Annie leaned back on the table. “I thought you were studying.”

“I’m taking a break. And get off the table, I’d rather study than go to Ikea.” Armin signed the last word by pointing at his eye, to the dorm keys, and then sighing in disgust.

“A break? You’ve been pouring over that for at least an hour.”

“Has it really been that long? I’ve been writing about Sasha and Connie’s run in with the dog from a few weeks ago. I’m almost done too...” He gave the notebook a heavy look. “I have room for one more story, I think.”

Annie licked two of her fingers and flipped through the final pages, counting. Armin made a face at the spots on his paper.

“Seven pages. What kind of story can you tell with that?”

“Eight.” Armin flipped the notebook shut, laying an elbow on it protectively. “The first page is still blank.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t know how to start. I want it to tie in with the last story, bring it full circle somehow, but I’m not sure what to write.”

“Have you written about me yet?”

Armin sighed for real this time, no rolling of the eyes or rare exhibition of sass in the deep heave of his chest. “No.”

“Is there a reason?”

Armin sighed again. Those kinds of sighs made Annie nervous. He ripped out the last page of the notebook, turning to the written word as he so often did when something heavy was weighing on his mind. _Six pages now,_ Annie thought. She tried to lean over his shoulder to see what he was writing, but whenever she tried he pushed her away gently. Annie was contemplating going back to her biology book when he handed her the note. It wasn’t long, not the novel Annie was expecting and that the writing time suggested.

It read:

 

_There are certain people in the world that are so, so important that they become a part of you. You can hardly differentiate yourself from them at all because your sense of self vanishes. There’s no more ‘me’, but there is also no more ‘them’. You're just collectively ‘us’ because you can’t imagine living without them, so your mind sees no reason to see them as anything but a part of yourself. I know that’s kind of creepy, but it’s true. And as you know, I have trouble writing about myself, and because of that I inherently have trouble writing about you. We both have our separate stories; you are your own person and I know that. But at the same time, on some subconscious level, I see our stories as two parts of a bigger picture. Because you are that person to me._

           

Annie’s eyes met Armin’s with a sort of shocked disbelief pooling in them. For most of Annie’s life, she had felt like a burden. A nuisance to her father, collateral to her friends, a dead weight to the entire world. No matter what they said, she never felt _wanted._ She had even convinced herself that Armin felt that way for quite a while, but this proved different. He had told her he loved her before, but this note got across just how much he _meant_ those words without even saying them. Her breath hitched. Armin wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head against her stomach. Her lips trembled and she covered her face with her hands, shaking as tears slipped into Armin’s hair.

It took her a long time to calm down. His note had struck something in her,  and the dam had broken and the flood of pain and turmoil that had been building up inside her since she’d last seen her father rushed forward.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” she tried to sign with shaking hands. Armin took hers into his own. She figured that by now he knew something was up, that she had been hiding things when he had been so honest with her. But this was her final reprieve, his way of saying _some other time._ He stood up and pressed his lips against hers, his arms drawing her close.

With intentional force to alert them to her presence, Sasha slammed the door.

The floor shook under their feet and the couple jumped apart, turning their attention to Sasha, who was quite the sight. Each of her hands were filled with four bags of groceries. A watermelon was tucked in the crook of her arm and a loaf of bread hung from her mouth. She dumped this all on the kitchen table, shooing the two of them away as she took inventory. When she seemed happy with her tally she turned to look at them, hands on hips, her face set in the sternest look Annie has seen since her last day of English the semester before.

“Check your phone.” Sasha sign with a stern resolve, her hands returned to her hips.

Annie twirled out of the arm Armin had wrapped around her waist, flipping onto the couch and grabbing her phone.

 

_The Great Potato [Sasha]_

_Message sent 9:56 P.M._

_Annie, can you come help me with the groceries?_

_Annie? I need your help._

_Annie?_

_ANNNIE??_

_ANNIEEEEEEE???_

_I SWEAR IF YOU'RE SUCKING ARMINS FACE OFF~!_

 

Another string of messages appeared.

 

_The Great Potato [Sasha]_

_Message sent 10:17 P.M._

_Why am I surprised? /sigh/_

_Why were you crying?_

_You can’t lie to me I know these things._

 

_Annie-the-leon-hearted_

_Message sent 10:19_

_We’ll talk later. I’ve got studying to do._

 

Annie took a deep breath, half annoyed that Sasha had interrupted them, half relieved. The weariness that often plagues one after a recent sob was creeping up on her, eating away at the corners of her vision. She plunged back into her Biology book, fighting the fog.

As Sasha put away the groceries Armin finished writing the story, occasionally running something by her for a fact check. It was a rather light in comparison to some of the darker origin stories that came before it. Sasha and Connie had found a dog and it may or may not have run off with Sasha's book bag. To be honest, none of them knew the full story. They only knew that the two of them had gone missing before lunch and turned up to their next class twenty minutes late covered in mud. There was some suspicion that they made up the ridiculous story to cover a hookup, but Armin liked Sasha's vision better.

He tried to momentarily flush Annie from his mind, pouring himself into that final page of the story. He knew something was up, had for a few months now. She’d been eating less and studying more, trying to drown out something the same way he was doing at the moment. At first, he thought she might have been having trouble in a class, but it was starting to seem more serious than he had first thought.

Once Sasha had left, he closed the notebook, eyes raking over the final few pages. What words would grace those final pages and draw to a close the notebook so many people had poured their lives - their souls - into? He turned away and moved to look over the couch, intending to put to rest whatever was bothering Annie. But Annie was not reading.

The biology book had fallen to the floor, lost in the false silence that was their disabilities. Her head was cocked up against the arm of the chair in a way that would surely leave an ache in the morning. Armin shuffled to the other side of the couch and kneeled. He brushed her hair away from her face, the sharp features softened by a calm that only sleep can bring. He wrapped his arms around her huddled form, pressing her against his shoulder and hoisting her up. Somehow, he was still surprised by how light she was, maybe even more so than usual. At the door to the bedroom, he shifted her into one arm, struggling to open the door. The door swung back into the room, knocking something off the wall and rousing Sasha from her bed. She turned on the desk lamp on the nightstand, sending shadows cast in wicked shapes around the room.

“Need some help?” Sasha signed.

“Nah,” Armin choked out as he lowered Annie to her bed carefully as he could. He draped a blanket over her, glad to see her sleeping. Whatever was bothering her had affected her sleep as well. “Thanks for getting the light.”

“No problem. Are you going walk to the boy’s dormitory in this rain?”

“Rain?”

“It’s been storming for around an hour. You can stay if you want, Krista isn’t coming back tonight since tomorrow is Saturday. You don’t even have to camp on the couch.”

Armin took her up on the offer. Before he dozed off, he faintly wondered if Krista would return the next morning wondering aloud: “Why the _hell_ is Goldilocks in my bed?”

Krista did not return the next morning.

When Armin woke up, Sasha was nowhere to be seen, but Annie still lay burrowed under the covers. The faint smell of bacon lingered in the air and the clock read 9:07. Armin pulled himself to his feet and walked into the main room. Sasha was in the kitchen, cooking up two out of the five packs of bacon she had bought the night before.

“Morning,” Armin signed.

Sasha just nodded, her hands distracted with the bacon. Moments later she jumped and yelled. “That damn phone! It keeps on going off when I least expect it.” Armin, who had caught less than half of her sentence, gave her a questioning look. “Annie’s cellphone's been going off; do you mind checking it?” She took a moment to flip a piece of bacon before adding: “And tell whoever’s blowing it up to screw themselves.”

“How about no.”

Sasha sighed dramatically.

Armin went to get her phone off the glass coffee table, stopping to pick up her biology book first. The screen was flashing and the phone moved across the table in small circular motions. It probably sounded possessed rumbling across the glass, and Armin began to understand Sasha’s annoyance. He picked it up and unlocked the screen, curious to see if whoever was texting her so much was worthy of waking her up.

It was her father or at least someone who had his phone. There were a good thirty messages from throughout the night. They all conveyed the same thing; her father was in ICU. He looked at the door to the bedroom and saw Annie standing there, fully dressed, arms crossed. She moved from the doorway, picking up her bag from the floor as she went, and plucked the phone from his hands. Her whole body jolted and he saw the panic flood her face. She took a few calming breaths before pocketing her phone and heading for the door. Armin followed her.

They both nearly ran over Connie in the doorway. He dodged, hands up and eyes wide. Once they had passed he looked tentatively into the room. Sasha was standing still, fork hanging slightly above the pan of sizzling bacon.

“What’s up with them?”

“No idea.” She sounded as bewildered as he was.

Annie could see Armin in her peripheral vision, and she walked a bit faster.

She burst through the doors into the bright sun of late May, ready to just _run_. But Armin reached out like always. Whenever she’s about to lose it, when the walls she built up as a child start to crack, when she nearly falls flat on her face he would stop her. His hand caught her sleeve.  Without thinking, Annie wrenched her hand away, taking a few paces backward, away from him.

“What happened?” Armin asked.

“Nothing happened, he has lung cancer. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but he didn’t even tell _me_!” More deep breaths. One. Two. Three. “He didn’t tell me for eight months. Dropped the bomb on _Christmas_ and then expected me not to worry. Asshole.”

“You could have at least talked to me about it.”

“I couldn’t because he told me to be _strong_ for him.” She kicked a pebble and looked down at her feet.  “And I couldn’t do it, not for him. So, I was strong for you.”

“Why me?”

“Because you don’t deserve it. You shouldn’t have to deal with my drama.”

“How much have you dealt with me? We haven’t even known each other a whole year and you’ve seen me at my absolute worst. You helped me, why won't you let me help you?”

Annie didn’t reply, so Armin kept going.

“I always could tell you were holding back, that you were hiding things from me. But I wrote it off. I just told myself she’s shy, she’ll come around. So, I was honest with you, I opened up to you, hoping you would open up to me. But I hardly know anything about you. What else are you hiding?”

Annie took a few steps further away. “I’m sorry. I was scared. I-”

“Of what?”

“Losing you, the only person who really _understands_ me. Please... don’t be mad.”

“I’ll get over it.”

“I’m sorry, I-” She hesitated. “I should go. I can take a bus.” She looked lost, eyes sad, half turned away, ready to bolt with her bag slung over her shoulder. And Armin didn’t know what to do, so he let her go.

“Yeah, you should. I’ll see you.”

She took a few more steps backward, waved, then bolted.

 

* * *

 

 

Armin came shuffling back through the door, head bowed with his hands in his pockets. Sasha and Connie shared a look. “Do you think they had a fight?” Connie asked.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen them do much more than argue, should we ask?”

“Don’t you remember the football game?” Connie asked.

“I wasn’t there, remember? Eren said he’d kill me if I did ‘cause I grew up with Titans fans.” Connie scrunched up his face, obviously not remembering this detail.

“Anyway, I don’t remember-”

“You’re not remembering a lot of things today.”

“Oh, shut up. I don’t remember what they were fighting about, because I didn’t know any sign language then, _remember?_ ” Connie snapped. Sasha almost punched him.

“The point,” he said, eating another piece of bacon, “Is that I didn’t ask then, and we shouldn’t now. No guy wants everyone up in his business when it comes to girls.”

“You’re full of it, Connie.” Sasha picked up the plate of bacon and went to Armin, who was sitting on the couch by that time.

“You okay?” She signed after setting the plate down. “Bacon?”

Armin shook his head.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“It’s fine... We’re fine. She went to see her dad though. He’s sick.”

Sasha’s mouth fell into an ‘O’ and she plopped on the couch. “When did she leave?”

Armin shrugged. “Twenty minutes ago, maybe a bit more.” Then his phone rang.

 

* * *

 

Annie was on 17th Avenue, four blocks away from the main bus terminal. She hadn’t stopped walking since she left the campus. There were cars everywhere, but the walk signs seemed to be in her favor. Her brains were scrambled. How much money was in her purse? Enough for the bus fare to get to her father? She didn’t have any clothes either. Maybe she should just go back. But she’d made it too far already, and she didn’t want to talk to Armin again either. Or maybe she did and was just afraid of what he’d say.

Annie kept walking.

 

* * *

 

 

Armin pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at who was calling. Annie. But why would she _call_ him? By accident maybe? Part of him thought he should just hang up.

“Sasha, can you answer this?” Another part thought better.

 

* * *

 

Annie walked into the shadow of a tall building, the light blocked out. People walked past her on all sides, pushing her in the wrong direction. Annie always forgot how crowded this area of the city got. She pushed forward until she was out of the group of people, walking out onto the road.

 

* * *

 

 

Armin watched Sasha closely as her expression fell, reading her lips.

_“Hello?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I see.”_

_“Thank you for calling.”_

_“I’ll be sure to tell him.”_

Sasha hung up as tears started rolling down her face. She pulled a page out of Armin’s notebook, which he’d left on the kitchen table.  

 _“Seven pages,”_ Annie had said.

Five now.

_“What kind of story can you tell with that?”_

A short one.

Sasha handed Armin the piece of paper.

 

* * *

 

 

She didn’t see them coming.

It hadn’t occurred to Annie that an empty crosswalk connected to a busy sidewalk was a warning sign. There could have been a horn or someone yelling at her to _get out of the road!_ but she didn’t hear it. She did, however, see the blur in her peripheral vision far too late. She turned around, somehow expecting Armin to be there with an arm outstretched to stop her, his face warped with a look of sheer terror. The image would be seared in Annie’s mind long after her vision went black.

The car hit her and pain washed over her senses. She lost consciousness before her body ever hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

 

Sasha plopped onto the couch beside Armin as he read her note. His face was pale and clammy like he was about to be sick. It wouldn’t have been the first time Armin threw up when he was upset. His body started shaking and Sasha could hear a faint whimper escape his throat. She wrapped him in a hug.

“I should have been there,” he choked on a sob. “I told her she wasn’t opening up to me but she was. She wanted me to come with her and I didn’t. She wanted me to come with her the same way she did with me the day my grandfather died. She gave me a chance and now, now she... could be... _damn it!_ ”

“Armin, you can’t just keep blaming yourself for everything,” Sasha said. It occurred to her that he couldn’t hear her the way she could hear him. It was so easy to forget.

“What happened?” Connie asked from behind her.

“Annie got hit by a car. They were taking her to the hospital when a nurse found her phone and called the first name on the list. They think she’s had some severe brain trauma.”

“That’s not good.” Connie looked down at Armin. “He gonna be okay?”

Sasha patted him on the back. “I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

 

Five weeks later, Armin decided to visit her.

He’d been there three times so far, in Annie’s little corner of the coma ward, but he hadn’t gotten used to the stillness of it. He offered a wave to the nurse watching the patients, and went over to Annie, still bandaged up slightly and still not awake. He thought of the words he’d said to Sasha, and the final words he still had to write in his notebook.

They needed to be said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have been there for you. I told you it hurt that you were so insistent on shutting yourself away from me, and you listened. You gave me that chance and I blew it. And now you’re lying here unconscious and I’m talking to you like a lunatic.” Armin did his best to keep his voice steady. Not for the nurse that was surely listening, or Annie, who couldn’t really hear him, but himself. “I almost didn’t come today, but I was already here, you see. I hope you wake up soon. I want to hear your voice. Wanted to hear it first, actually, but an air conditioner beat you to it.” Armin laughed a bit at the absurdity of it all. Hearing his voice, much lower than he remembered, echo through the hallways was surreal. “Well, I found my answer, here’s to hoping you find yours.”

Armin slid down the wall beside her bed and sat crossed legged on the floor. He pulled out the notebook from his book bag, turned to the first page, and began to write.

_There are certain things in life that become a part of you - people, places, memories - and if you lose them, you lose a part of yourself. Eventually, if enough pieces get lost in the couch, you start to lose your grasp on the image completely. But not seeing the big picture can lead you down roads and through doors that you would never have gone through otherwise. If you know exactly where you’re going, you’re less likely to stray off the path. And those who stray are those who live. Life isn’t perfect, you never end up where or when you think you will. You lose people and you lose yourself, but you find new things and create new stories._

_These are the stories of some of those who stray. People who have lost so much but still move forward and in losing their way found one another. But these stories are in no way complete because no matter what happens, I am certain that chapter in our life is not closed._

**_Not yet_ ** _._

_  
_


	6. Epilogue: Seven Months Later

Armin takes a deep breath and holds it, taking in the silence of his apartment. Sometimes the noise outside becomes too much, especially this time of year, and he welcomes the silence. Not the dark, empty silence of deafness, but the silence he could hear. The sound of his own breath, his own heartbeat, and the clock ticking in the corner. After a few seconds, he drops his bag and shuffles to the kitchen.

It’s late December, a little over six months since the end of his freshmen year, since he lost Annie. Fig mews from his perch on the fridge and Armin nearly chokes on the apple he’s bitten into. Fig was, as far as Armin knew, the worst cat in human history. He was afraid of mice, he ate with his paws, and has somehow gotten stuck in the toilet. Twice.

A lot had changed for Armin since the end of May. His English teacher had shown off his work to several other faculty members, which lead him to being published in the school's yearly literary magazine. He figured the money from tutoring at the college he could afford an apartment, and by the end of summer he had an apartment _and_ a cat, at Sasha’s request of course. Over the summer he had taken up writing fiction. his favorite was a story about a warship whose entire crew was killed in a storm, only to be found shipwrecked by a fisherman. The story had mainly been a fantastic version of the story of Mikasa and Eren’s relationship as adopted brother and sister, but Armin had put a surprising amount of himself into the story. The mutual feeling of not belonging after losing what defined the boat and the boy were something that Armin was familiar with. What was a warship without its crew, and a fisherman without his boat, and a writer who is unable to describe such an important part of the human experience. By the end of it, all three of them had learned that you were not defined by what you lost, but what you had left. Writing that story, had helped Armin deal with the grief of losing Annie, and eventually lead him to the decision to try and regain his hearing.

After the summer, he shook off his sulking and threw himself into his third semester of college. He still visited her sometimes, but less and less frequently as the months went by. Now when Armin went to visit her in the hospital it wasn’t for him; It was for her. Her father was in remission, and Armin tried his best not to hate him for it. One time they met each other at the hospital, and all the anger he had felt but only directed at himself was pushed on her father. However, while her father looked unscathed on the outside, the loss of his daughter had shook him greatly. Because that’s what it felt like. To them, she was dead. For her to come back a seven month coma would be a miracle.

Fig seems to notice how Armin’s gone still, hands on the counter and eyes on the wall, blank. Seven months. Too much of her life wasted away. To long for a miracle.

He leans down and picks up the cat brushing at his ankles, scooping him into his arms.

 

* * *

 

 

He goes to visit her one last time.

It’s December 31st, around five in the evening, and it’s starting to snow. The coma ward is quiet, except for one couple sitting beside a boy around his age who he’s never seen here before. He looks new, his muscles still strong and not atrophied, like he was sleeping, not trapped in the unconsciousness that comes before death.

And then Annie catches his eye and he thought he could do this but the sight of her still makes his throat tighten and his eyes swell.

 _God, she looks so sick_ , he thinks.

He walks slowly over to her, pulling up a chair and sitting there a few minutes, staring at the wall but only glancing at her. He feels like he’s intruding almost, like he’s looking through a window into her coffin, watching her deteriorate in a way only the earth should see and he feels _gross_.

Either the parents in the corner are ready to leave or they think he wants to be alone, because they get up and leave after a few minutes, and once he can’t hear their footsteps anymore he lets his eyes lock onto her face and he cries, telling himself it will be the last time he cries over Annie Leonhart, even though he knows it won't be. He pulls himself together and takes her hand and it’s so bony and frail and he tries his best to keep it together because he wants to do this and be done with it. And so he talks, knowing that even if coma patients could hear she couldn’t, and it tears him apart to say that he’s leaving and that he loves her and that he’ll never see her again but _thank you_ because she’s taught him a lot through all of this. And then he sits there a bit longer and leaves. His intention was to leave her in the old year, but he feels like he’s just leaving her alone.

 

* * *

 

 

Three years after he leaves school to travel the world he’s sitting in a cafe in Germany, waiting for a distant relative on his grandfather’s side. He’s writing a short story about the traditions of a city in northern Africa he had just visited, and he’s looking at the people on the street, searching for just the right word when his entire body stiffens and his mind goes blank. There is a girl about his age, blond hair flowing down her back and dressed in billowing fabric. She’s thinner than when he knew her but strong looking nonetheless. She’s gesturing rapidly to an older man that shares her eyes but not her smile.

 _I’m dreaming_ , Armin thinks, _I must be dreaming._ But then the girl meets his eyes and stops what she’s doing and Armin does not care if it’s a dream because if it is, it is certainly a good one.


End file.
